


Comfort Doesn't Feel Comfortable

by DetectiveJoan



Series: Asexual Atypicals [5]
Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Asexuality, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Internalized Acephobia, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveJoan/pseuds/DetectiveJoan
Summary: Chloe's idly thinking about introducing herself and asking him out for coffee or something — up until the exact moment that she catches him idly thinking about kissing her.





	Comfort Doesn't Feel Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by  
> 1) the way my trash brain reacted when my qpp sent me a slightly schmoopy text last week, i.e., an aro anxiety spiral  
> 2) [this tumblr post](http://detectivejoan.tumblr.com/post/169776484400/patrexes-projecting-all-ur-issues-onto-fictional) about giving your depression to cockroaches 
> 
> Title from "[Control (Secretly Sorry)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaVKkT2K-sA)" by JR JR

Chloe had always known that most people thought about sex more than she did — you have to figure that out before you start calling yourself asexual — but her ability has officially confirmed that she had well and truly underestimated just how much regular people thought about sex. Some days it feels like she’s hearing nothing but those thoughts from all directions.

She can ignore it most of the time. It’s easier to do when it isn’t directed at her, and the intimate relationship she’s fostering with her noise-cancelling headphones has certainly helped keep any interested parties at bay.

There’s this one guy, though, who she runs into at the studio on campus a few times a week. He seems nice, and he’s definitely cute. They’re becoming friends, in a very chill working-in-the-same-space-without-actually-talking-much kind of way that she really appreciates. She’s idly thinking about introducing herself and asking him out for coffee or something — up until the exact moment that she catches him idly thinking about kissing her.

She should take it as a compliment, probably. It’s buried in a pile of thoughts about how pretty she is, and how much he likes her art, and how he wants to get to know her better. But the kissing thing bleeds over into the rest of it, making all of his thoughts feel slippery and subtly sexual in a way that makes her skin crawl. It’s suddenly all she can hear. 

Her first instinct is to leave immediately, to get as far away from those cloying thoughts as she can, but she takes a deep breath and manages to stay in her chair. She yanks on her headphones with shaky fingers and turns the music up until she can barely hear her own thoughts. She’s out of the studio as quickly as she can put her materials away, and doesn’t leave the guy with so much as a parting wave.

Standing at the bus stop ten minutes later, music still blaring, she raps her phone against her leg. She should probably call Dr. Bright and talk through why she feels so uncomfortable. Not that it’s exactly a mystery, she’s just overreacting to a small thing she overheard. And not that calling her therapist would help, probably. They’ve discussed ace stuff before and it’s never exactly been satisfactory. Dr. Bright means well, but she doesn’t really understand how invasive and unsettling it feels to have those kinds of thought in her head when she’s never thought up anything like them on her own.

The bus that runs past Sam’s house pulls up, and Chloe gets on before she can overthink it.  _ Can I come over and get wine drunk on your couch?  _ she texts Sam when she’s three blocks away.

(It’s not like Sam ever has any other plans.)

Two hours later, Chloe has evolved from “mildly uncomfortable with this specific instance of PG-rated mind reading” to “absolutely certain that she’s going to die alone.” 

“It’s just like my brain got put together all wrong,” she complains. She’s had enough wine to turn the voices off completely, and her head is in Sam’s lap because she gets super cuddly when she’s drunk and sad. “Like, Jesus, would it really have been that complicated to just make me normal?”

She isn’t annoyed with her vague conception of Jesus or God or whoever. More like with the entire concept of the universe. 

“Your brain isn’t wrong,” Sam says softly, stroking Chloe’s hair. 

Chloe knows that. She knows  _ all _ of the affirming phrases. She’s read the 101 pamphlets. She has a pride flag hanging on her wall. 

“Yeah, but I’ve just been thinking ever since Damien,” she says. She feels Sam tense up at the name, but she plows on. “If a good enough hit could’ve knocked my ability out, maybe it could’ve knocked this dumb ace thing out, too.”

“Chloe…” Sam says slowly, like a warning. Chloe waves her off. 

“Yeah, I know, that’s not how it works and asexuality can’t ever be fixed but also I’m not broken, blah blah blah.” 

Chloe sighs loudly, and then there’s a very long silence. 

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Sam finally says, and Chloe doesn’t need her ability to know that the  _ this _ she’s referring to is not Chloe’s asexuality, but her dramatic melancholy. 

“I’ll get over it tomorrow,” she says with certainty born from long experience. “I just need to be sad about it tonight.”


End file.
